Some television series finales land. Others falter. And then there is House of Cards Season 6: a slow-motion failure seen by millions. What was once Netflix’s standard-bearer of prestige drama ended not with a bang, but a whimper. For a series that helped define streaming TV, the last eight episodes were not so much a farewell tour as a cautionary tale of what can happen when a series loses its star and its direction.
Haunted by a Ghost: Frank Underwood’s Shadow
The elephant in the room—beyond question—was Kevin Spacey’s departure as Frank Underwood. His exit, after several allegations of sexual harassment, created a void in the narrative that was too large to be ignored. But instead of breaking new ground, the season fixates on Frank’s offscreen death, his legacy, and his will.
Frank can be dead, but almost every storyline is about him. His ghost is so big that the other characters have little room to exist, let alone grow. The series takes so long to grieve its previous star, it neglects to adequately flesh out the living characters. The outcome? A narrative trapped in the past, unable to map a way forward.
Claire Underwood’s Presidency: A Missed Opportunity for Feminist Power
Robin Wright’s Claire Underwood was always the show’s best-kept secret—cerebral, brutal, and mysterious. Season 6 granted her the presidency, making her a symbolic antidote to patriarchal rule. At first, it seemed like House of Cards would redefine itself under the sharp, feminist focus.
Rather, it winced. Claire’s narrative starts strong as she fights the remaining of Frank’s allies and a new conservative power block—the Shepherd brothers. But the show shoots itself in the foot with discomfiting shifts: Claire pretends to go crazy, disappears without cause, and discovers a late-season pregnancy that is more symbolic than rooted in character building. The season hints at commentary on performative feminism, then steps back, muddying its take and neglecting its heroine.
Doug Stamper: The Fidelity That Did Not Lead Anywhere
If any character was built to carry the show’s conclusion, it was Michael Kelly’s Doug Stamper. His all-consuming dedication to Frank, complicated moral compass, and troubled relationship with Claire all contained the ingredients for a rich conclusion.
Instead, Doug is trapped in half-baked conspiracies and spends most of the season responding instead of acting. Even his season-ending confrontation with Claire—a six-season building block—fizzles. Doug breaking the fourth wall, once a staple of Frank’s icy wit, comes across less as a passing of the torch and more as a gimmick. The show teases that Doug might step into the limelight, but never goes all the way.
The Shepherds: Promising Concept, Weak Execution
Roll in the Shepherd siblings, Annette (Diane Lane) and Bill (Greg Kinnear), who are introduced as Washington’s new puppet masters. They show up late in the game and are never afforded the narrative richness or screen time to feel like authentic threats. Their reasoning is unclear, their plots too complicated, and their internal conflicts—specifically the question of Annette’s son and quirky sibling tensions—never quite resonate. In a season crying out for clarity and cohesion, these new arrivals only created static.
A Story in Freefall: Plot Overload, No Payoff
By the time the season reached its finale, House of Cards had hurled nearly every political cliche against the wall: proxy wars, hidden dossiers, constitutional showdowns, surprise pregnancies. It’s an onslaught of ideas with no thread to bind them. Time jumps confuse the viewer, arcs develop and evaporate without warning, and character motives change without emotional satisfaction.
The original thesis of the series—power corrupts, and corruption is both seductive and perilous—becomes lost in the muddle. In its stead is a shallow and insubstantial rendering of power for power’s sake, devoid of morose or ethical substance.
Robin Wright’s Final Turn: A Masterclass Amid the Chaos
During the unraveling plot threads, Robin Wright is still the show’s bright spot. Her acting is magnetic, measured, authoritative, and completely believable. Even when the writing lets her down, she performs well. Claire Underwood perhaps wasn’t provided the payoff she deserved, but Wright managed to keep her interesting until the very end. Everybody agrees: Wright managed to elevate even the weakest material, and her presence alone almost saved a sinking ship.
What’s Left of the House: A Legacy in Shambles
House of Cards once led the way for political drama on streaming TV. It was wit-filled, fashionable, and never afraid to lean into moral complexity. But its last season is a reminder of how rapidly prestige can evaporate without a firm narrative strategy.
Struggling to overcome its tainted previous lead, the show could not regain its footing. Claire’s presidency, rather than heralding a new bold direction, was a confusing diversion. Adding villains too late into the game, and previously promising characters such as Doug, fell through the cracks.
Now, the entire series exists in Netflix’s archive—a six-season testament to the high points of early streaming television and the low points of unfinished storytelling. Ultimately, House of Cards fell under its gravity, unable to change when it needed to most.